I don’t know about you, but I enjoy mulling over something for a bit and then finding a solution. I like to chit-chat with my grandmother about it. Then a good friend. It’s the way I’m wired. If I need to vent about something, my husband (I love you, honey, I just need to get this out) searches for a solution. Immediately. Are all men wired this way? Sometimes, I just want to talk about it first. To mull it over, brainstorm and vent a bit.

So much research has been done about women and their internal “talk about it” button. If my memory serves me correctly, my inner venter never really turned on until I became a mother. I love my kids. But there are times when I don’t have the capacity to search for a solution – I just need to vent.

For example, I’ll say to my husband, “I’m having a tough time writing with the kids around today.”

“Then move the computer to another room.”

“But the kids need me around today; and it’s easier if I’m downstairs. Plus I’m on deadline.”

“I guess I can’t help you.”

Maybe I like writing with the kids around, but I’m actually secretly wishing there were more times when he’d take off with them so I could get stuff done without anyone home. Then I could take a Calgon bath, watch re-runs of Pretty Little Liar, Sex and the City, eat cereal over the sink and dance in the kitchen with my dog.

And I digress.

When I need to vent, I could care less about finding a solution immediately. I don’t need to go back to the grocery store and tell off the 19-year-old check-out girl with the tattoo covering her left arm for giving me dirty looks as my daughter hangs over the shopping cart. I just want to be able to let off some steam before my hormones bubble up in spurts throughout the week.

Some may see it as empty venting; I call it free therapy.:)

I’ll admit it. Some days, I get caught up in mindless stuff happening in the suburbs. Who doesn’t?

I’m not saying I don’t appreciate a good episode of Real Housewives. And I always like a good whine over cheese with the girls.

But I think sometimes, I need to take a step back, shush up and put everything into perspective. (Not something that comes easy, believe me.)

I want to share a guest post that I recently wrote for Rhody Bloggers for Good. The name of this group says it all. Rhody Bloggers for Good is a group of local bloggers (I’m a member too) who do a lot of things in the community. These girls are a lot of fun. Let’s just say I like that they appreciate giggling… and giving back.

We’re teaming up for a few different events this spring and summer, like the Sit-a-Thon for Belle April 5, 6 and 7 at the La-Z-Boy store in Warwick. Belle is the beautiful two-and-a-half-year-old daughter of a fellow blogger. She was recently diagnosed with leukemia. Find out more about this event here: http://rhodybloggersforgood.com/2013/02/21/meet-belle/ If you care to share, please do it for Belle: http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/Sit-A-Thon-for-Belle/41549

Today’s post is about women who refuse to call themselves victims. Here’s the link to the original article: http://rhodybloggersforgood.com/2013/03/04/red-tent-day-celebrates-women-and-survivors-of-domestic-violence/

Last year, I was invited to be a part of a local charitable event that was both inspiring and eye-opening, called the Red Tent Day. The Fifth Annual Red Tent Day for Women takes place at the Rhodes on the Pawtuxet on Sunday, March 24, 2013. In so many words, the Red Tent Day is a day of pampering for women, featuring an array of vendors with proceeds going to the RI Crisis Assistance Center. But it’s so much more.

I was honored to be a part of this day from the moment I first walked through the doors, to booths, vendors, decorations and activities that celebrate women and inspire them. I had never heard of the RI Crisis Assistance Center (RICAC) and was blown away when I learned about the organization.  RICAC’s goal is to end domestic violence and sexual assault in Rhode Island. That may sound like a lofty goal to some, but according to the women of RICAC, you have to start somewhere.  You see, the people connected to RICAC are survivors of violence. Domestic violence, sexual assault, dating violence, incest, and rape. They understand. They have been through it. And they have survived.

Nancy Rafi, Director of RI Crisis Assistance Center, is a survivor of domestic violence. She has worked for more than 15 years advocating and supporting survivors of violence.

“Working with victims of domestic violence and rape, and helping them move through their trauma and come out the other side a healthier person, is the most rewarding life experience I’ve ever had,” Rafi said.

This Red Tent event is all about creating a space for women to be honored, cherished, pampered and appreciated.  After a small group of RI women helped to coordinate a similar event in New Orleans at the Superdome in April 2008 to provide a healing space for almost 40,000 survivors of Hurricane Katrina, they knew they had to launch something here in Rhode Island. This year’s Red Tent Day will be the fifth annual event in Rhode Island. For more information, visit www.ricrisis.org.

The event will take place Sunday, March 24 at the Rhodes on the Pawtuxet, at 60 Rhodes Place in Cranston, RI from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Expect everything from manicures to pedicures, yoga and massages and beyond. Visit www.redtentri.com for more details. A special night out for women, supporting Gloria Gemma Foundation, will follow at 7 p.m. Tickets for this event are $20.

Please look for my pink booth in a sea of red at The Red Tent again this year! I have been invited back thanks to a personal invitation from Nancy Rafi. She has been so supportive about my blog and book venture. Thank you for everything you do for women and RICAC, Nancy. We will all be giving back to RICAC on March 24, celebrating women together.

You find dust bunnies in every corner  ….and you just vacuumed the entire house three days ago.

While the rest of Rhode Island was out bike riding on this glorious spring-like day, we decided to dive in and spring clean our daughter’s room.  Basketball season is over and we thought, “Why not. Today is a perfect day.” Or not.

I have no words to describe the things we found. Let’s just say the chocolate bunny I discovered lying headless in the back of her closet was not from this coming Easter. There were clothing tags, headbands, earrings, necklaces, drawings and enough pencils to fill the first floor of Staples. And this was just in her desk area.

I am the first to admit I am not naturally organized. Although I’m not by any means a hoarder, I do tend to hold on to certain things. There are days I wish Neicy Nash would return to Clean House for one more season just so she could stop by my house and show me some love.

Now, I do clean my own house, make my own beds and scrub my own toilets. But when you have two kids and a Golden Retriever that sheds a pound of fur when he walks by, it’s like brushing your teeth before devouring a bag of Oreos.  

My little girl is a bright, creative girl and I’m proud of every drawing, bracelet, purse and pottery dish she has ever made. But when you start saving everything, the crud really adds up. And it makes you want to throw out everything. But we accomplished our goal. We worked with my daughter and made piles for everything from clothes to toys and hair elastics to erasers.  We had her pick and choose what stays, what goes and what can be given to charity. And guess what? We did it! It felt so good when it was over and my back is killing me. But we did it.

And guess what we did when three girls from down the street came over to play? We sent them all outside to play. 😉

It’s National Sleep Awareness Week!

If your baby isn’t sleeping through the night and you suffer from “sleepless in mommy insanity,” I invite you to check out my recent Ask Mom OnlineRI.com column where I shed light on a popular sleep method that can help your baby get back on track. (In her own crib!) https://onlineri.com/articles/ask_mom

Do you remember what it was like when you got the “OK” to stay home sick from school when you were little? As long as you weren’t hanging over the toilet, there was something exciting about staying home with your mom when everyone else was racing for the bus. (For about an hour….then it got a little boring.)

Ah, the memories. As I’ve mentioned before, fellow Rhody Blogger, Carla Molina Martins, from www.allofmenow.com, started a “Mom Before Mom” prompt where you write about life before you became a mom. This week we’re talking about childhood memories of sick days.

This post would not even be possible without two key things planted in my memory: Vick’s Vapor Rub and The Young and the Restless. To this day, the minute someone cracks open that blue jar of strong-smelling goop, I’m jolted back to my old house in Seabrook, Texas, with a nasty head cold. I’m wrapped in my grandmother’s hand-crocheted afghan, sprawled out on the couch with a box of Kleenex, a bowl of chicken & stars soup (thanks for this memory from Chelley, another fellow blogger), and a sleeve of Saltines, watching Ashley, Lauren, Victor, Nikki and Cricket ruin their lives on 42 “hopefully suspenseful” but oh-so-drawn-out minutes of The Young and the Restless. (I think we all watched soap operas as kids, and would NEVER let our kids watch them today.) And I digress.

I had a pedicure the other day and this same soap opera, which I hadn’t seen in probably 30 years, was playing on the salon’s wide screen TV. It was like watching an ambulance. I was immediately drawn to the opening theme song. Before I knew it, I was 10 years old again. I swear the story line has not changed. Thankfully, the hairstyles have. Something about that show helped soothe me to sleep, so I could nap before my brother and dad came home. A You Tube treat for all Y&R fans out there. Check out Nikki’s rockin’ 80’s hair-do: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRotp0-4xNg

I never wanted to go to my own bed on sick days. There was something so comforting hanging out in our family room, with the wood paneling, wretched-black-and-brown-patterned woven recliner, and comfy beige stained sofa.

My mom went back to college when I was around 10, so some sick days, I would be left by myself part of the day. That’s when the Newmans became like family. If I was really sick, she would cancel everything, call the doctor and stay home with me all day. God bless her, she juggled a lot back then. Thanks, mom!

When I was really little, my mom would rub Vick’s on my chest, and place a layer of Kleenex on top so it wouldn’t ooze into my shirt. But it always did. That’s when those long, Laura Ingalls Wilder-style night gowns that my grandmother gave me every Christmas came in handy. As I got older, I would rub Vick’s on my chest by myself, but there would always be remnants left under my finger nails. (I have never met a bar of soap that can take this stuff off completely.) To this day, I still keep a jar in my medicine cabinet. In fact, I used it on my 11-year-old the other day. He took one sniff, frowned, and said to me, “Whatevs, mom. I’ll use it, but please let me put it on myself.” More power to ya, son.

Guess what? The stuff still works.

I have officially become my mother.

Just a quick (and nearly wordless) thank you to all who stopped by my book signing at Books on the Square in Providence!

A special thank you to Jessica Granatiero from The Savory Grape for graciously providing wine, making it an official wine and cheese event!

Thank you to Carole and all the folks from Books on the Square, one of my favorite book stores in Providence.

And a big shout out to all who sent thoughtful emails, FB posts, Tweets and words of encouragement. You know who you are and I am giving you a virtual hug right now! THANK YOU!

And for the record, I did NOT wear Spanx, so I was smiling (and breathing fine) all night! 🙂

Friend and fellow blogger, Carla Molina Martins, from www.allofmenow.com, started a writing prompt that’s meant to inspire you to write about your life before you became a mom, called the “Mom Before Mom Project”. I have been in a slump lately, using every excuse in the book (including my own book-related stuff) to get going on this cool series. But this week, I thought to myself, “Myself,” I said. “Enough is enough”. Carla has inspired me to jump in and write a post any time, so I thought, “Why not? I’ll go for it this week.”

In her latest post, she asks the question: What was bedtime like for you as a child? Here is my Jackie Tangent-inspired answer!

You know how you study your rear off in college, but you can’t remember a thing when you start your first real job? Then one day, out of the blue, stuff starts coming back to you? Random stuff? Stay with me here: That’s how I am with childhood memories. I can’t remember everything, but I do recall bits and pieces about my bedtime routine growing up in the suburbs near Houston, Texas.

You may think I’m crazy, but I honestly remember listening to music in the crib. Now, my family did not travel by bus, playing guitars and singing songs. My mom may have WANTED to raid Shirley Jones’ closet, but we were not by any means The Partridge Family. My crib was in the front bedroom with puke-green carpeting and a groovy stereo with a record player. My parents would play music on that stereo every night to help me fall asleep. I had tubes put in my ears as a baby and would cry a lot at night. But songs by bands like Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Simon & Garfunkel, The Eagles, and The Beatles filled the room and helped soothe me to sleep.

Even as a toddler, songs like Teach Your Children literally ended up in my dreams.When I was at Texas A&M University (Gig em Aggies!), I reviewed music for the university newspaper. I once wrote a review for an album (yes I said album) featuring acoustic remakes of some of Neil Young’s classics, and when I played the CD, I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. The music literally felt like it was a part of me and my life. It sent me back to that room, where I fell asleep to the sounds from the stereo. The music was so nostalgic; it was like going back in that house again, with the God-awful floral 70’s wallpaper, shag carpet and yellow pleather sofa.

As my brother and I got a little older, I remember how my parents always sent us to bed early (maybe 8 p.m.) during the week, but on special nights, we got to stay up late and watch shows like Sha Na Na, Donny & Marie and Dance Fever. It was the best! Oh, I remember what life was like before VCRs, DVDs, DVRs, and cell phones. My brother (two years older) and I played with friends in the neighborhood until the street lights came on. We’d come in for dinner, play with toys, maybe a game of Sorry, hug our parents and boom, it was bed time. And my mom would give me a bowl of Cheerios any time I’d stand in my parents’ doorway complaining, “I can’t sleep!”

I remember my dad tucking me into bed and kissing my forehead. He always had a full beard and glasses. Still does, but he is all grey now. And my mom was big on hugs too. She had longer hair back then, and full on bell bottoms. When I had a bad dream about spiders or King Kong, I’d run down the hall to their room and snuggle in between them. I always needed a nightlight because my imagination would go wild. But I always felt safe with my parents. (That’s how I am with my kids today!)

As a teen, bed time was different. It meant my mom was going to use my middle name. My full name.

“Jacqueline Lee, are you still up?” (Guaaaa, mom, I mean really? As I chewed gum and twirled my Rave-permed hair in blue jelly shoes.)

“Jacqueline Lee, it’s time to get off the phone.” (As I chit-chatted on the phone with my best friends.)

“Turn down the music!” (I can still hear the Madonna songs blazing in the background. I also loved Bananarama, the Go Go’s, Led Zepplin, and CSN and other classics too.)

“It’s time for bed.” My room was filled with dorky posters torn from the pages of Tiger Beat and Teen Beat magazines, and I often had a tough time falling asleep. But when I did, I was out like a light.

After all, life was good. I was a happy kid. To this day, when I hear songs I listened to in the crib, I still get all nostalgic. And sleepy. I think I just discovered my cure for Mommy Insomnia…

If you’re new to hosting play dates, it can be a little shocking at first. Will the other parent stay? Will my child share? Will they get along? Do I have to spring clean my house?

Check out my latest Ask Mom Online RI column for some tips to help you ease into it: Ask Mom Play Date article.

There are some things that never get old. Listening to 80’s Madonna songs on Pandora, watching clips of classic Saturday Night Live episodes, re-reading a good book and eating sweets with my kids during their school vacation. (Or any day of the week, for that matter.) We just stopped by a chocolate shop and treated ourselves to some lusciousness after hitting the slopes. We are exhausted but relaxed, and this inspired me to re-post one of my old favorite blog posts, featuring SNL’s The Brownie Husband.

Brownie Husband

It’s been one heck of an odd week. And for the love of Amy Poehler, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And there’s nothing you can do to change that fact. (Especially when the new oven you ordered was supposed to arrive on Saturday but due to the blizzard, isn’t coming in for another week.) If I have to make one more thing using our Panini maker, I’m going to snap. And I digress.

What CAN a mother do?

1. You CAN pull on a swanky apron and bake tiny pink cupcakes with your daughter’s cupcake maker that Santa thankfully gave her. And decorate them with pink, white and red frosting! Wah-la!

2. You can also use the contraption to bake tiny muffins, tiny pancakes, tiny cookies and brownies. (And anything else you want to keep warm, Tommy Boy.)

3. You CAN make crafty hearts with doilies and construction paper.

4. Tie a pink and red ribbon to your dog’s collar. Even if he’s a male, your kids will appreciate it.

5. You CAN try to come up with something else silly to give your husband so he doesn’t think you forgot about him, even though you don’t really need to celebrate Valentine’s Day to show how much you adore him.

6. You CAN grill him another meal using the Panini maker! And then have wine to level out your temporary mommy insanity.

Our annual tradition on February 14th? We trade gag gifts. And lots of chocolate. My husband gave me candy and Pajama Jeans last year. No, I’m not kidding. It’s part of our Valentine’s Day tradition. I have to say, it really takes the pressure off of this pseudo holiday. For both of you, really. Just go to the Dollar Store and buy the first thing you see and boom, wa-lah, the thought is there. Pressure’s off.

We ALWAYS buy each other thoughtful gifts for our birthdays, Christmas and our anniversary. But this holiday isn’t really big for us. It’s all about the kids. We’ve been married for 17 years, so I highly recommend bringing the expectation level down a notch or two for people who have been together as long as we have. It’s entirely up to you!

And, in case you’re wondering, yes, I still wear my Pajama Jeans. (Just not beyond the driveway.) Happy Valentine’s Day!

What a long weekend. I’m talking about Blizzard Nemo. Not the clown fish, but the crazy New England storm that blew this mother away. And made me grateful for every little thing. Like dry socks. Your kids. Husband. Kind neighbors. And fresh milk.

Let’s just say we built a lot of snow forts and memories this weekend. Our kids got to play in the snow for three days straight. They had no school Friday, when the snow first started to fall. They spent hours upon hours playing with other kids in the neighborhood. But unfortunately, they came inside to a freezing house because we lost power the first night of the storm. Growing up in Texas, I’ll admit I know a heck of a lot more about hurricane preparedness than blizzard preparedness.

I never thought we’d lose power in the middle of the winter. And I never fathomed how cold my house would feel WITHOUT heat. (I walked around in ski pants for three days (with last season’s ski passes still hanging from the zipper). I’m just now starting to feel my legs again! We used our truck to charge phones. We lent out shovels, fire logs, and anything we could find. We thanked our lucky stars for the neighbor who has a plow truck. We caught up with the neighbors and even joined them for a blizzard block party.

But things got more serious when the sun went down. Thankfully, we have a fireplace. It was our lifeline. We used it to roast our buns, ski bibs, and breakfast bagels. My husband and I dragged our Queen-size mattress down stairs so we could have a slumber party in front of the fireplace. He took the cot and gave us the mattress. It was a lot of fun cuddling up with the kids, dog, some snacks and a mile of blankets in front of the fire. We used what little battery power was left on the iPad to fire up a movie. We had licorice, cookies and fruit. We were all smiles. Until the fire went out.

My husband spent hours working outside and was sound asleep by 10 p.m. So I was on fireplace night shift. I’d wake up every couple hours, slap my face with a cold hand and put more fire logs on. Another hour or two later, I’d rally and repeat. By 5:30 a.m., my contacts were plastered to my eyeballs, but that was the least of my worries. I was checking my kids to make sure they were warm, positioned in the middle of the mattress, away from the drafty window panes but not too close to the fire. I had become a true mama bear, protecting my cubs from the bitter cold. God bless Laura Ingalls Wilder! How she got through those pioneer winters without North Face ski pants is beyond me.

After going without power in the winter, you start thinking about what’s most important in life. All the frivolous stuff flies out the chimney. Now, there were a lot of people that had it really bad during the storm. Some weren’t so lucky. We were. Although it was scary at times, we never had it bad. We got through it and now, our power is back on and our lives are pretty much back to normal. I have taken two showers. I’m starting to feel human again.

And most of all, we will always have the memories. One day, my kids will tell their grandkids about the Blizzard of 2013! (With a few extra inches of snow added in there, I’m sure!) “We had to walk up hill both ways!”

Going through all this makes you think about what NOT to do next time. So I wanted to share this little list with you.

What NOT to do the next time the weather man predicts a blizzard.

1. Underestimate the weather man.
2. Make fun of the old RI “Milk and Bread” mentality. (Or anyone who tells you to over-buy before a storm.) P.S. They are wicked smart.
3. Think that the power will never go out.
4. Forget to buy extra UNSCENTED candles.
5. Forget to take a load of clean socks out of the washer and place them into the dryer BEFORE the power goes out.
6. Give your dog a bone that causes stomach upset. Poopsicles are not fun, especially during a blizzard.
7. Forget to run the dishwasher just because it’s not full.
8. Schedule your new oven to arrive the same day as the storm. (Long story, we’ve been without an oven for two weeks now.)
9. Load your refrigerator with dairy products.
10. Argue with your husband about the life and death of any and all dairy products.
11. Panic about everything.
12. Eat all the chocolate in the house before the power goes out.
13. Eat all the chocolate chips too.
14. Leisurely add every Ritz cracker in the cupboard to your soup the day before the first snow fall and forget to buy a new package.
15. Think that cold leftover Thai food will qualify as a meal.
16. Forget to leave the fun board games in the darkest part of the basement where you swear Mike Meyers has been waiting for you since Halloween.

Ever had one of “those” days? Not since my kids were really little (and I would have to hide in a closet so I could conduct conference calls in peace) have I felt so disheveled. (When I’d feel so overwhelmed, walking to the mailbox was considered an accomplishment.)

Pardon my venting, but I’ve got to get this out:

My son is home sick today. My husband works from home. And we’re having work done on the house.

It’s like a hat trick of frustration for any sane work-from-home mom.

It’s all good. I know. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thankful that I get to do fractions with my son and drag out some of my dusty sixth grade brain cells. I’m grateful that I get to spend time with my sweet kid. I’m grateful that we’re finally getting the ceiling fixed in our kitchen and on the second floor too. The workers are really nice and so talkative, they make me look shy. I’m also grateful that my husband works from home. (OK, most days. Like when I have meetings and I get a little break. Sorry, honey. You know I love you. Just need a little space.)

I mean, really? I can’t get anything done today and we’re trapped inside my tiny home office. Without an ounce of motivation. To top it off, my dog is trapped inside with us (or else he would lick the workers to death). I have a feeling he consumed some yard hors d’oeuvres earlier because his breath smells like a city zoo.

Why on a day when my to-do list is overflowing? Sorry, but I’m having one of those days. A day where every time I try to focus and be productive, someone calls for me. Knocks on the door. Walks into the one room we’re trapped in.  Asks for something. There’s banging. Sanding. Talking. More talking. More banging. I think I feel a twitch coming on.

I’ll stop now. I know life is good. I just needed to get this out. I’m feeling better already – thanks!